


the deepest secret nobody knows

by what_on_io



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Established Relationship, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marauders' Era, my first ever festive fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 09:59:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5535647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_on_io/pseuds/what_on_io
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The full moon falls on Christmas day, but the Marauders won't let Remus miss out on the holiday festivities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the deepest secret nobody knows

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be written way before Christmas, but I was super busy. Written to celebrate (commiserate?) the first full moon on Christmas Day in 38 years. Title taken from e.e. cummings' 'I carry your heart'. Hope you enjoy, and Merry Christmas lovelies!

The light of an almost full moon streams into the dormitory through the open window, illuminating the four-poster Remus is perched on in a silvery glow. He can feel its pull even now, the waxing gibbous taunting him from the navy sky, a slight ache right down in his bones, a hint of what's to come tomorrow. He's cross-legged at the foot of the bed, clammy in his flannel pyjamas despite the frigid temperatures that have overtaken the castle since the onset of winter. The season is in full-force; it's been snowing for days, and it's difficult to walk anywhere without almost being swept away by the wind. The castle has been gearing up for Christmas since the start of December, and now there's obnoxious festive cheer assaulting him every way he turns. Not that Remus himself is feeling very festive. Christmas Eve, and he's never been more glum about it.

  
Mind you, the full's never fallen on Christmas day before.

  
He's tried telling himself it's just another day. That there will be other Christmases. Except this will be his last one at Hogwarts and the last one he'll get to spend with his friends like this, haunting the castle and its grounds just the four of them, before the stress of job hunting and relationships and the bloody war that's brewing will surely tug them apart. He's staying for the holidays because this is the last chance they'll get to be properly together like this for a long time, and besides, he's not sure he can face another full moon locked in his parents' cellar, chained to a pipe. Not that he isn't grateful for his folks, but even the Shrieking Shack offers more comfort than the damp old basement with its limited space, where he always wakes up with double the aches just from hitting his head on the ceiling in wolf form.

  
He hadn't expected the others to stay, too. Perhaps he thought Sirius would volunteer - he doesn't like intruding on the Potters' hospitality and although they're his family now, Remus knows he'd probably feel less of an imposition if he stayed at school. The others, though, they had surprised him. Usually Peter went abroad with his family for the holidays, and James tended to go home and invite them all over to stay for a week. Remus supposes he should be used to his fellow Marauders surprising him now.

* * *

 

_It had been early December, because Remus was only a few days into the chocolate muggle Advent calendar that Sirius had bought him, and they'd been sitting in the common room in the early hours of the morning, finishing up Potions essays. They were the last ones up - Remus and Sirius spread out on the sofa, Sirius's feet in Remus's lap, both using the sofa arms as desks; James occupying the opposite armchair while Peter sprawled across the floor by the fireplace, nibbling the end of his quill in thought._

  
_Remus had just about finished his essay and was in the process of tidying his books when Sirius took his arm as if to halt him, saying in a hushed voice, "Are you okay, Moony? It's just, you've been a bit, well... removed. Recently. I've noticed. Is everything alright?"_

  
_Remus couldn't deny he'd been a bit distant of late. While his friends had been getting into the holiday spirit he'd been throwing himself more and more into his work, passing up pranks in favour of writing essays the night they'd been set, studying every single night instead of sitting up talking. He hadn't really expected anyone to notice much, with N.E.W.T.S. coming up it's hardly out of the ordinary for someone like him to be revising, is it?_  
_He shouldn't have been surprised. Sirius noticed everything about him, could pick out the slightest change in Remus's mood just by catching a glimpse of his expression. They were well versed in each other's body language after nearly seven years of sharing a dorm and spending every waking moment together, but Remus really had thought he'd been doing a good job of masking his discontentment._

  
_"Everything's fine, Pads. Just tired," Remus lied, still unsurprised when Sirius only quirked an eyebrow, a wordless expression of 'don't bullshit a bullshitter'. Remus had sighed, mindful of James watching the pair of them from his chair, and lowered his voice to a murmur._

  
_"I'm just thinking about the holidays, that's all," he replied. Not much point lying now, not with Sirius's hand on his arm and those grey eyes boring into his._

  
_"What about them? You're staying here with us, aren't you?" Sirius asked, apparently unaware that Remus's heart leapt at his words. As if it was obvious all along._

  
_"I thought you lot were going home," Remus muttered, eyes cast downwards._

  
_"The full lands on Christmas day, Re. Did you think we'd forgotten?" Sirius asked, and then there was concern flashing in those eyes, blinking up at Remus before he opened his mouth to say, "No. You thought we'd leave you anyway?"_

  
_"I'm not ruining your Christmas," Remus replied, apparently loud enough for James to hear, because he piped up._

  
_"Don't be an idiot, Moons, 'cause we all know you're not. We said we'd be here, and we will be."_

  
_It was true - the only moons they'd missed had fallen in the summer holidays, when Remus had no excuse to be away from his parents' cottage. It's not like he can just blurt out that his friends have decided to become illegal Animagi just for him, is it? Those summers had been miserable enough, even with the shorter nights._

  
_"You can't stay just for me. Not like this. It'll be rubbish, I'll have to miss the feast, you'd all have a much better day at home-" Remus protested, cut off by Sirius's hand over his mouth, palm warm against his lips. He tried not to concentrate on how soft Sirius's skin was - as if his boyfriend's puppy-eyed look wasn't enough to break his resolve on its own._

  
_"Nonsense," Sirius said, backed up by James's resolute nod and Peter's quiet noise of agreement, "It'll be fine. Just because we can't celebrate on the actual day doesn't mean we can't have a good Christmas."_

* * *

 

So here they are: twelve o' clock noon on Christmas day and Remus is still in bed. The day of the full is always miserable - there's a dull ache running through his whole body, and his temperature is feverish, blood running too hot in his veins. A headache pulses at his temples, and when he opens his eyes to scrutinise the room the flash of sudden colour makes his head throb.

  
Then, a moment of relief - a cool touch to his forehead, a hand smoothing back his sweaty fringe. For this, surely he can prise his eyes open, just for a moment. When he does he's rewarded with Sirius gazing down at him, a gentle look in his eyes. His expression is always soft for Remus, but on the day of the full he touches him like he's going to break. Like he's the most precious thing Sirius has ever seen.

  
"What's...?" Remus starts to say, feeling for the spot of cold on his head and tensing when his fingers hit something cool and wet.

  
"Cold flannel," Sirius explains, "I did try a cooling charm first, but they never work before the moon, do they, so I thought this might help."

  
"Thanks," Remus croaks, voice rough from disuse, "Sometimes the muggle ways are the best ways, eh?"

  
The poor attempt at humour brings light to Sirius's eyes, and he bends to place a quick kiss to Remus's brow, just below the flannel, "Nothing wrong with muggle stuff, Remus. Their music's good, at least." He smiles, and Remus relaxes a bit. Nice to know the muggle records he's picked up for Sirius's present will be appreciated, at least. If the reference is a subtle clue that Sirius has been hunting early for his gifts, neither of them mention it.

  
"James and Peter have nipped down to the feast. They're gonna smuggle some food up for us, if you can stomach it," Sirius says. He's keeping his voice soft, knows from past experience that noise aggravates Remus's headache even more. There's an unspoken pact between them, they know exactly how to take care of each other without asking questions. In this moment (every moment, really, it's all-consuming) Remus loves him.

  
"I'd kill for a rare steak right about now," Remus groans, thinking of the Great Hall tables piled high with food, wishing he could face it. The smells would probably knock him sick, never mind the noise of so many people in one room.

  
"No, you wouldn't," Sirius reminds him, smiling gently. Remus grins weakly, reaches up to cup his boyfriend's face and pull him in for a proper kiss.

  
"You should have gone down with them. I can cope here on my own, you know. Don't want you missing an opportunity to stuff your face, do we?" he murmurs into Sirius's lips, smiling properly when he gets a chuckle from the other boy.

  
"I'd rather stay here with you, thank you very much. My Moony needs taking care of. Can't leave him alone to pine after me, who knows what'd happen..."

  
"I love you," Remus says through his laughter.

  
"I love you too, Moons. Don't ever doubt it."

* * *

 

Later, when he's alone in the Shack waiting for the others to sneak in under the invisibility cloak, Remus contemplates the date. Just another day on the calendar, he muses. His friends are fine with it - they've _said_ they're fine with it, at least, a hundred times over. He just needs to get through tonight. There's always next year.

  
It's almost time when they arrive, creaking floorboards alerting Remus to their presence. Probably best they stay under the cloak for now, until the transformation is complete and they're safe to slip into their Animagus forms. Not long, now.

  
Only Sirius has slid out from under the cloak already, crossing the room in three long strides and planting a sloppy kiss on Remus's jaw, his arms encircling the other boy's waist just for a moment.

  
"Love you. We're all here for you." A ritual, the words. They help to calm Remus, enough to muster an encouraging nod for Sirius and a thumbs up for the others. Sirius slips back into place, in the other room while Remus undresses and folds his clothes, and then the transformation begins.

* * *

 

When he wakes, he's already in the hospital wing, tucked safely behind the curtains and underneath crisp white sheets. It takes Remus a while to adjust to his surroundings - his human brain always seems reluctant to accept that its body has righted itself again. After the host rebels once a month, Remus supposes it's only natural that his mind grows wary of it happening again.

  
"Re? You awake?" a soft voice appears at his other side, and Sirius's head pokes through the curtain, "Pomfrey's concealment charms are still a bugger to get past, you know. The things I do for you."

  
With that, he bounds through the curtained barrier and plonks himself in the chair beside Remus's bed, one hand reaching automatically to brush back the other boy's curls.

  
"How're you feeling?" Sirius asks, and Remus takes a second to catalogue his aches and pains. Obviously there's the deep ache of bones that have broken and reset themselves twice over, but he's come to accept that. A new scratch across his left forearm, probably deep enough to scar. His left knee feels a bit strange, probably having reset in an awkward position and requiring a batch of Skele-Gro to properly right itself. A cut over his left temple and several criss-crossing his ribs, but apart from that the moon doesn't seem to have been a particularly bad one.

  
"I'm alright," Remus settles for, "I've had worse. Is it still Boxing Day?"

  
"Yeah. Almost eight at night. You've slept the whole day - I did come to check on you before but I didn't want to wake you."

  
"I appreciate it, Pads. Are the others okay?" Remus has to ask - another ritual; instead of quelling the panic this one ignites it. Sirius's quick nod is all the reassurance Remus needs - he's used to this, too.

  
"They're fine. Peter's still sleeping it off, too. Any excuse for a nap, that one."

  
"I'm still sorry I ruined your Christmas," Remus tells him. He needs to apologise, after all - they haven't given him a chance to do it properly yet.

  
"Shhh," Sirius insists, "You've nothing to be sorry about. Who says anything's ruined, anyway?"

  
"But you missed that party you were invited to, and the feast, and-"

  
Now there's a gleam in Sirius's eye that Remus has learned to be suspicious of, "All has been taken care of, my dear moonbeam. You just rest and don't worry your pretty little head about it."

  
A pat to Remus's hair, and then there's a break in the conversation when footsteps approach Remus's curtains, halting just outside. Sirius freezes, hand clutching the bedsheets tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

  
"Close one, eh? Reckon I should get going, love," he says when they clip away, breathing a sigh of relief, "I'll see you in the morning, yeah? Feel better soon." A quick kiss, and Sirius is off, that mischievous grin still firmly in place. Remus resigns himself to whatever mad plan his fellow Marauders have cooked up, slumping back against his pillows and gearing up for a long night.

* * *

 

It's two more days before Remus is feeling fully himself. Nearly New Year, and he feels like he's missed the whole of the festive season. There's been no mention of exchanging gifts between the four of them, no wistful imaginings of a roast turkey dinner or lamenting about the missed Christmas party in the common room. No, the others seem... perfectly at ease with it all.

  
It's the twenty-ninth of December when Remus wakes to a heavy lump lying across his calves. He eases himself into a sitting position to find Padfoot curled up on his legs, snoring softly. He delivers a swift poke to the dog's belly, grinning when he startles awake, ears pricking and tail wagging.

  
"Anyone could see you there, you know! Hurry up and change back, daft puppy," Remus giggles, groaning when Padfoot climbs up his chest to jovially lick at his cheeks. In a swift movement, Sirius changes back, and Remus is left with a rather heavy teenage boy on top of his chest, eager hands clutching his shoulders.

  
"I see you're feeling better," Sirius says, pecking his boyfriend on the cheek before removing himself, "Does that mean you're ready for presents now?"

  
"Presents? What presents?"

  
"Your Christmas presents, silly," Sirius says as though the whole thing should be obvious. He turns to leap at James next, calling, "Rise and shine, sleepyhead! It's Christmas, you can't sleep in at Christmas!"

  
Remus, pieces clicking into place, shifts a little on the bed, intending to search for his gifts. He gets as far as swinging his legs off the bed before the movement is aborted, frozen in shock at the state of the dorm. Where there used to be empty floor and a trail of Sirius's dirty socks, now a huge Christmas tree sits, decorated with dozens of glittering lights and baubles. There's a jolly Christmas song piping out from the tree trunk, and half a dozen ornamental reindeer that the others have charmed to prance jovially around the gifts scattered underneath.

  
Sirius is jostling Peter into alertness - Remus can just about see the other boy's head poking out from under his duvet, mousy hair tousled with sleep. James is already out of bed, glasses jammed onto his face at an odd angle, rummaging under the bed for something.

  
"Here," he says, shoving a wrapped parcel into Remus's hands, "We, er, we didn't want you missing out on Christmas, so... we decided to postpone it."

  
Remus is slightly in awe of them all, and it's with a shocked expression on his face that he settles back against his pillows to open James's gift. Chocolate, of course, all his favourites. James had learned his lesson the first time after buying Remus expensive chocolates for his birthday that expense (and rich cocoa, for that matter) doesn't go down very well with the werewolf. He goes to hug James in thanks but Sirius tackles him before he gets very far.

  
"Mine next. I hope you like it. Well, actually you'd better like it or else. I went to a lot of effort with this one. Go on, open it and see."

  
Remus hesitantly tears open the wrapping paper, hastily wrapped with Sirius's trademark efforts - three bows stuck to the underside of the parcel and five on the top, ribbon tied clumsily around the bundle. He's half expecting something alive to come bounding out of the wrapping as soon as he discards the paper, but he's only left with a soft slip of fabric in his hands.

  
Unfolding the material carefully, Remus realises it's a jumper. A huge, woollen, maroon jumper with oddly stitched arms and an overly long torso, and it's the most perfect thing he's ever seen.

  
"Made it myself. The muggle way, with knitting needles and everything. Thought you'd appreciate a time-consuming present," Sirius says. There must be tears in Remus's eyes because suddenly the pads of Sirius's thumbs are stroking them away and the three of them are looking at him with worried faces.

  
"Don't you like it? It's alright if you don't. I'm not the best at knitting, I know, and I had to ask Evans to fix the hem a bit for me, but that's it, and I put a charm on it so that it can regulate your body temperature, see? So you can wear it during the fulls, and you won't be too hot. But if you don't like it I'll have it back and get you something else-"

  
"I love it, Pads. It's perfect. Thank you." They won't kiss now, not with James and Peter watching them like this, but later. There's always time. Instead, Remus throws his arms around Sirius's neck and breathes the scent of him in for a second.

  
"I'm glad you like it," Sirius whispers, sounding relieved. They break apart, and then there are more presents to open - books from Peter, new dress robes from his parents to replace his old battered ones, and more chocolates. Sirius's face lights up at the records Remus bought him, and the battered leather jacket that he'd helped James find in a muggle charity shop.

  
Then there's food, ordered specially from the house elves because they have a soft spot for James and Sirius. It appears, steaming, on plates straight from the kitchens - a whole turkey, and roast potatoes and vegetables and stuffing. It's perfect. They pull crackers afterwards, amusing themselves with terrible jokes and ridiculous hats.

  
"This has been excellent," Remus says, when they're all lying stuffed on the floor, hands over their stomachs. His head nudges Sirius's ankle, and he feels reverent fingers tracing the outline of the huge crown he's wearing, barely-there fingertips brushing over his hair, "Thank you. I mean it."

  
"You don't need to thank us, Re. We love you," James says, "We didn't want you to miss out on Christmas. We know how much you love getting woken up at ungodly hours by large dogs taking up residence in your bed." He casts a sidelong glance at Sirius, who chuckles lightly.

  
"It's not over yet, boys. Who's up for a snowball fight?"

  
Remus and Peter look around confusedly, noting the distinct absence of snow outside the window. The festive weather stopped just after the twenty-fifth, leaving nothing but grey sludge in its wake.

  
Remus feels the cold flake against his cheek before he makes the connection between that and Sirius locking eyes with James. They've cast the spell simultaneously, and now there's a blizzard building in their dormitory, a flurry of white cascading down from the ceiling. There's a sudden scramble as the boys clamber to their feet, stooping to gather snow into their hands. Sirius lobs the first snowball at Peter, catching him right in the nose. The next one ends up crushed down the back of James's shirt, causing an outcry of what must surely be agony. Remus's next hit sends Sirius diving for cover under his bed, allowing Peter distraction enough to get James in the shoulder.

  
Peter surrenders first, going down in a flurry of flying limbs and pelting snow. James next, after a particularly hard ball nearly breaks his glasses in half, and then Remus and Sirius are left to battle it out.

The so-called battle doesn't last long, ending in Sirius tossing Remus down on his bed and covering his entire face with a heap of snow that he's collected in his sleeves. Remus, protected by his heat-retaining woollen contraption, courtesy of his boyfriend, merely plants a teasing kiss to the cold tip of Sirius's nose and heaps the snow down his collar, making him squeal for mercy.

  
Panting, Remus scrabbles for his wand to vanish the snow, then lies back against his damp bedsheets, half on top of Sirius. He breathes in the soothing scent of his hair before saying contemplatively, "I think this might just be the best Christmas I've ever had."

  
"Glad to hear it, Moony." The reply comes from James, passed out on his own four-poster.

  
There's a rumble of laughter from Peter, who murmurs conspiratorially, "Know what would make it even better? The stash of Firewhiskey I've been hoarding for a special occasion."

  
Afterwards, pleasantly warm from the alcohol and the fire James has conjured and which now hovers in mid-air, Remus curls around Sirius's warm body, head tucked under the other boy's chin and fingers intertwined where they rest on Remus's hip.

  
"You're brilliant, Pads, you know that? S'not many boyfriends who'd go to this much trouble. Not many friends who would either."

  
"You're welcome!" James calls from his bed, somehow finding the energy to lift his head off the pillow so the pair can glimpse a head of messy black hair with an unfocused expression.

  
"Yes, Prongs, we love you too," Sirius tells him. James gives them a wobbly grin before falling back against the mattress, soft snores erupting from him a few seconds later.

  
"I'm not just any boyfriend, Moons. I'm only the best boyfriend in the entire world, no competition," Sirius says, "Well, except maybe you, of course." A beat of silence passes, and then, "I'm glad you had a good day, love. You deserve it."

  
"Mmmm," Remus agrees sleepily, "You do, too. Making me this jumper. I love it. Have I told you how much I love it? I adore it. I'm in awe of your knitting prowess, Padfoot. Must you excel at everything?"

  
"Just another of my many charms, Moony. I'm glad I decided to make it, though. You look bloody gorgeous."

  
"Ah, just one of _my_ many charms, Pads. Remus Lupin - looks bloody gorgeous in any woollen garment."

  
"I love you, Remus."

  
"I love you too, Sirius."

  
Before sleep claims them both, there's just time for another chaste kiss, and then Remus is swept away by the huff of Sirius's sleepy breaths on his neck, Sirius lulled into slumber by the feel of Remus's lips against his shoulder.

  
Perhaps Christmas wouldn't have to wait till next year after all.


End file.
